Winter of our Discontent
by wolfconquest
Summary: An unwanted second son and his servant embark on a mission to Weston Collage in order to obtain respectable titles in the world.
1. Crystal Shards of Regret (00)

Cold. Dark. Pale moonlight tracing shivers on deathly frail arms.

Water. Ice. Crystalline shards of frozen words.

They pierce like knives.

Blood, splashing against red sand like the ocean.

And then, nothing.

Johan never knew love like the rest of the children did. He only watched sadly as the mothers and fathers of these children took them to play and smiled with them.

He tried so hard to become a good child. But every night was the same.

A workaholic father, an ice-cold mother.

So untouchable.

It is said that everyone has a moment of awareness. A moment you can never turn back from.

A moment in which you suddenly become. . .more.

Johan first experienced this "awakening" when he was seven years old.

His father would not call him his son. His mother cast her frosty blue eyes away from him.

He tried everything. He excelled in art, especially poetry and painting.

But his parents paid him no heed, in favour of his older brother, Alexander.

Is it not enough? he thought, Is it because I am not good in maths?

Sometimes, very late in the night, he would hear voices in his head, telling him all his flaws, over and over again.

All the reasons he was not loved.

And then, only then, would he allow himself to cry.


	2. A Sunlit Mirror (01)

Sunlight reflected off a pair of sleepy, hazy eyes rimmed with red.

"It's time to wake up, Young Lord."

A voice shrouded in early morning weariness said, "Müller, no. . .I haven't slept for barely two seconds! . . ."

The servant threw the curtains open wider. "Nonsense, you have slept 8 hours."

Johan grimaced. "Perhaps now is not the right time to complain about being shipped off to Weston."

Müller sighed. "I'm sorry, Young Lord, but you cannot escape this any longer. Term starts next week and it is nine hours to London."

Johan rolled over and groaned before sitting up, throwing his friend a rumpled, lopsided gaze.

"At least you're coming with me. I was serious about the promise I made, you know."

Müller heaved another sigh. "Yes, where you cried and begged Lord and Lady Wolfburg to allow me to attend with you, or else you refused to go. You are actually quite spoiled, aren't you?"

Johan flushed scarlet. "I am not spoiled! I am just horrible at making new friends, and my English is horrible, and, well, you're fluent in it, so i thought it would be a good idea. That's all."

Müller snickered. "You would have missed me terribly had your parents not wanted to get rid of you that much."

"I would not! You're just some servant!"

"I'm your best friend, too."

Johan was a mild-tempered, unassuming boy. However, years of being raised the wrong way twisted some aspects of his personality, and he snapped.

"Do not be so familiar with me," he said bitterly, hugging himself and turning away from the servant, "It is a privilege I am giving you."

Müller fell silent.

Time passed swiftly after that, albeit under a thick, tense atmosphere.

As his servant brushed his glossy light hair, Johan looked at himself in the mirror and noticed with satisfaction that his face betrayed not the pain in his mind.

And so, he put on a brave face and bled alone, on the inside.

 **Please forgive the short chapters. I do hope they will get longer, but that is just how they are ending up right now.**


	3. Tea and Goodbyes (02)

Johan descended the stairs fully dressed for Weston, with a grown-up expression that seemed six sizes too big on his young face.

His mother was in the drawing room in the company of some noble women, and, (much to his distaste) his brother Alexander. They were all fawning over him.

At the sight of Johan lurking in the doorway with a painful look on his face, Lady Wolfburg tutted and motioned for him to join her.

He bowed smartly to the other crisply dressed women, who smiled at him in return before turning their attention back to the elder brother.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the grey ends of Müller's tailcoat flicker out of sight. Probably off to prepare the carriage.

"It is time for you to leave?" questioned Lady Wolfburg cynically, with an artistically elevated eyebrow.

Johan nodded. "Indeed, Lady Wolfburg."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Your father is in Rome on buisness, so you must understand why he cannot accompany you. You shall be fine with that servant of yours."

He took that as a dismissal, however rude it was.

After he awkwardly and anticlimatically exited the room, Julia, a maid, tackled him in a bear-like embrace.

Julia was his second mother, or, at least, acted like it. She was always the one to sing him lullabies, give him hugs, and even teach him how to sing.

"Goodbye, my boy," she said into his hair, "Be safe. You will have Alwin* with you for company."

 **Müller's first name is Alwin. Julia calls him this.**

Johan smiled at Julia, albiet sadly, and stepped away.

"I'm ready."


	4. No Colours (03)

Johan did not have too much luggage with him. As he would be receiving his uniform at school, he did not really need a full wardrobe of clothing, and the only things he wanted to take with him were his books and parchment.

As a result, the carriage was not too crowded, which he was thankful for, because the atmosphere was thick enough.

Johan stared out the window and mustered the courage to say two words.

This went on for ten minutes before Müller suddenly blurt out,

"Sorry!"

At the same time Johan said,

"My apologies!"

They looked at each other for a second, each staring into similar grey eyes, before Johan burst into laughter.

"All is forgiven?" asked Johan in between giggles.

"Forgiven." replied his friend.

Both boys stared out the window again, watching the people of Berlin mind their own buisness.

Thousands of people walking by each other, and you don't even see anyone.

"Lord," said Müller unexpectedly, "What is your favourite colour?"

The light-haired boy contemplated this for a moment before glancing over to his companion.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because this world is sad and grey, and it needs colour. I would like to associate one with you."

Johan glanced out the window again, looking at all the people ignoring each other.

"I don't see colours."

"What do you mean?"

Johan sighed.

"You see colours like red, blue, green. I see grey. Like a photograph, except more clear."

Müller leaned close to Johan, gaze locked on his naturally round eyes.

"Is that why your eyes are grey?"

"I don't know. That's not logical."

"Maybe. But when are you logical?"

"Touché."

Johan looked out the window again before closing his eyes.

"I want to know colours. So badly I ache to."

His eyes remained glued to the streets passing in a blur out the window when he said, "Tell me all the colours you see on my face."

Müller flushed with embarrassment, but fixed his gaze on his master's face.

"Well, you have grey eyes. I don't think you'd know the difference if you could see colours. And white hair. It is very light. Your skin is very pale, like a white wolf."

Johan opened his eyes.

"So I don't have any colours, either."

"I suppose not."

Johan laughed a painful kind of laugh.

"That's not making me feel any better!"

Soon enough, they arrived at the Berlin train station, which would take them to London.

As Müller gathered all the luggage, Johan sighed and said regretfully, "I despise traveling. I wish it wouldn't take nine hours to get to London."

"It could be worse," reminded Müller, arms straining under the weight of all the books.

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," said Johan with a smirk.

 **It is extremely rare, but complete colour blindness does exist.**


	5. Identities (04)

Being on a nine-hour train got very boring, very quickly. Johan was motion sick and therefore couldn't read, and he had misplaced his pen.

There was nothing to do but look out the window.

He tired of that after five minutes of nothing happening.

"Müller."

No response.

"Müller~"

Still nothing.

"You bloody. . .wig-wearing. . .twat!"

Müller glared over at him.

"Is there something you require, young lord?"

"I'm bored."

"We left seven minutes ago."

"I'm terribly bored."

"Be patient."

"You're a bad friend."

"You took those curses from your books. You don't actually curse."

Johan pouted.

"I only wanted to get your attention. No one pays attention to me."

Silence.

"Müller,"

Johan sighed.

"I want a different name. Mine is too old-fashioned-sounding. It sounds like the name of a knight. Like Lancelot."

By now, he was just talking to himself.

"I like wolves. How about **Wolf** *? It's in English."

 **The language they are speaking is German. Bolded words are in English. This is so it doesn't get confusing. Also, from now on, even though his name is in English, I'm not going to bold it, because that's very tedious.**

"That's the only word I know in English. Well, I also know ' **yes** '. And ' **no** '. And ' **English** '. But I think that's it. I feel like I'm bad at learning languages. The only other language that's not German I can speak is French. I'm not fluent in it, but I can speak it well enough. I've spoken French to the kids of the French ambassadors that go to my parent's house, and they say it's pretty good. Hey, I thin--"

The glare that Müller sent Johan sent shivers down his back.

"You talk a lot."

Johan thought for a moment, then a wide grin inched his lips up.

"I'll keep rambling this whole train ride. . .unless you agree to call me Wolf."

Müller sighed. "Do you really hate your name that much? I guess I can call you that."

Wolf--looked at his friend with earnest eyes. "It was a name given without love. It was a name given to a cold-hearted brat. I don't want to be what my parents tell me to be. I am my own person."

Müller nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense. Then you have to call me by my name, Alwin. It was given to me by Julia, so it means a lot to me."

And thus, two binary stars were created.


	6. London (05)

Eventually, Wolf fell asleep.

They'd talked for hours (actually, Wolf mosly talked and Alwin just nodded at him to humour him) and the time passed a little faster.

When the train stopped, Alwin, who had completely lost track of time, panicked and accidentally punched Wolf in order to wake him up. (It worked.)

He had taken off his jacket and shoes in order to feel more comfortable while sleeping, but this childish decision only worked against him as he hurriedly shoved his clothes back on and stumbled off the train, looking frazzled and harried.

He didn't even notice Alwin walked straight into him as he was exiting the bus as he was in such a state of shock.

"Wow."

Alwin shoved down his annoyance.

"Yes, it's London."

Wolf sent his friend a weak glare.

"Dont make fun. I've never left Germany."

Alwin sighed.

"Yes, it's very interesting. Different. Now can you please move? We're scheduled to check in at the hotel in thirty minutes, and we still have to take a carriage to central London."

Wolf didn't appear to be listening.

"So different. . .and yet so familiar. . .I should write this down--"

"--Master, please. We really have to leave."

Wolf snapped back to reality.

"Yes! The hotel!"

Alwin sighed and mentally smacked his forehead.

Sometimes, this younger-than-him master was very immature.


	7. Midnight Drabbles (06)

When they arrived at the hotel, a servant was waiting for them at the door.

Usually, Wolf payed no attention to such trivial things, but he stopped walking for a moment, shocked.

The servant looked like _him_.

Him. Akira.

Medium midnight-coloured hair. Narrow, ebony eyes. Snowy pale skin like winter.

The servant would not look Wolf in the eyes. He said, softly, "Can I take your luggage?"

Wolf was far, far away. Remembering days long past.

It was dangerous.

"Wolf," muttered Alwin, "He's asking if you want your luggage taken."

Alwin sounded angry. That was strange.

"Ah--yes. . .please."

Wolf hoped his chin-length hair would hide his red face.

It was very late when Alwin and Wolf arrived in their hotel room, to say the least, and both were tired (in different ways. Alwin was tired of Wolf and Wolf wanted to sleep).

But even after undressing and laying in their beds, both boys could not fall asleep.

"Alwin?"

Wolf's high-pitched voice rang out throughout the spacious room.

"What is it you need?" inquired Alwin, sounding quite irate.

Wolf clutched his blankets closer and asked, "Do you like me? Do you really actually want to go to Weston with me?"

The room was silent for a long time. Wolf assumed he was being ignored and rolled over to his other side.

"Yes."

Wolf sat up.

"What?"

"Yes. I do like you. And I want to go to Weston."

Wolf smiled, his strangely pointed teeth catching slivers of light.

But his smile disappeared as soon as it came.

"Are you lying? You act like you hate me."

Alwin sighed.

"I was born in Amsterdam, moved to Germany when I was five because only my mother and I survived an attack on our family, and people throw rocks at me in the streets because my skin isn't light like other people's. I've grown cold. I don't hate you, I'm afraid to like you."

Splashes of salty tears made wet spots on Wolf's bed. He was a blur of unbound white hair and a glint of slate eyes before he tackled Alwin and hugged him tightly.

The sound of sobs soon filled the room, and Wolf was crying and clutching onto his only friend.

"Alwin, I'm so glad you're here."


	8. Akira (07)

The next day, Wolf woke up to the smell of parchment and cinnamon.

He felt warm. He felt. . .content.

Wolf snuggled deeper into his covers, and wrapped his arms tighter around. . .

A breathing chest.

He bolt upright and fell out of bed.

Laying down, right next to where he was sleeping, was Alwin.

Asleep.

Wolf's eyes went wide and he cautiously stood up, examining the sleeping boy.

The night before registered in his brain, and he sighed in contentment.

Alwin did not hate him.

Wolf smiled softly and brushed Alwin's hair out of his face.

He was so docile when he was asleep. Wolf instantly regretted falling out of the bed.

He decided not to wake him up.

Instead, Wolf dressed himself, ordered food from the servant that looked like Akira, and ate.

And contemplated.

That couldn't have been Akira, he thought.

Akira was in Germany. . .

Right?

Alwin felt his hands begin to shake as he imagined every possibility of how, why, when he came here.

Akira was the most beautiful boy in all of Germany. Wolf remembered his adoration for the glittering enigma that was Akira.

He also remembered when Akira ripped out his heart and cut it apart at the seams.

He remembered not remembering where his valuable items went, one day. They slowly disappeared from his drawer, from the old wooden chest in the corner of his chambers, from the shadows.

He always cursed his forgetfulness back then.

He remembered Akira's shifting gaze as Wolf caught a reflection of gold in one of his pockets.

He remembered Akira luring him in with coy eyes and small smiles and the promise of friendship.

He remembered the day Akira told him he was nothing.

The second son.

The ugly duckling.

The weak link.

And he remembered believing it.

When Alwin woke up, Wolf had to turn his head to hide his tears.

~~~

The carriage ride to Weston wasn't long.

Alwin and Wolf made up stories about the people that passed them to suffocate nerves.

Wolf tried to smile like he usually did.

~~~

Weston had a large campus.

Almost too large, according to Wolf, because his short stature of 155 centimetres.

He was to meet the headmaster along with all the other first-years in order to be sorted into his house.

Wolf took a deep breath and stepped into the school.


	9. Weston (08)

Wolf found himself in an overly large foyer. The ceiling must have extended thirty metres above his head!

As Wolf gazed, awe-struck, at the ceiling, Alwin steered him towards a line that was being formed at the front of the room.

"Alwin, this is wonderful!"

The dark-haired boy nodded and sighed.

"Wolf, can you move along? We need to secure a spot in line. . ."

Wolf snapped out of his dreamy delirium and blinked at his companion.

"Yes!"

By the time they made it to the front of the line, Wolf had seen that the headmaster was standing in front of a podium, and students were handing forms to him. He, in turn, said what Wolf assumed was to be their house.

He started to panic. He had no such form!

He was supposed to bring a form?

"Alwin, Alwin! Hark, over there, do you see? The boys are holding forms! We have no form! Alwin, what do we do?"

Alwin sighed.

"Wolf, calm down. I filled out a form for you."

He then pulled two folded parchment papers from his breast pocket. Wolf tried to snatch them from him but Alwin deftly inserted them back into his pocket.

Wolf flushed red.

"Give me," he whined.

"Methinks not."

"I scorn you, scurvy companion!"

Alwin raised an eyebrow. "If we are quoting Shakespeare, than I confess that methink'st thou art a general offense and every man should beat thee."

Wolf threw his head back and laughed.

"Well, more of your conversation would infect my brain!"

"Thine face is not worth sunburning, Wolf!"

Wolf paused for a moment.

"I don't have any more in my memory."

Alwin half-smiled at him.

"Indeed, neither do I."

Wolf rubbed his eyes.

"What is it? Are you ill?"

"No," he said, "You smiled! Is this a dream?"

Alwin's gaze shifted away.

"T'was but an in-the-moment thing."

Wolf beamed.

"You have a nice smile, I shall remark."

Wolf looked back to the front of the line when he received no response from his companion.

They were nearly at the front of the line! Time certainly passed quickly when Wolf was in the presence of his witty friend.

Wolf looked nervously on as the boy in front of him walked forward.

This was the moment where he would be put into his house.

And, with a deep breath, Wolf wrapped his arms tightly around his friend before letting go.


	10. Wind (09)

When they were called forward, Wolf handed the headmaster his form.

"Hello, sir. I'm Wolf."

Was there something on his face? The headmaster was looking at him strangely.

Wolf's palms started to sweat. He hadn't said anything to him yet.

Finally, the headmaster gripped his hand in a firm handshake.

 **"Good afternoon. I am the vice headmaster, Johan Agares. I shall take a moment to look through your form."**

Suddenly, it dawned on Wolf.

He was in England!

. . .And he couldn't speak English.

 **"No, no, no. . .g-good. . .English. . ."** stuttered Wolf.

The headmaster gestured towards a young boy standing behind him.

Perhaps a translator?

They whispered for a moment before the boy pulled away and nodded at him.

"He says, 'Good afternoon. I am the vice headmaster, Johan Agares. I shall take a moment to look through your form'."

Wolf smiled at the boy. "Thank you!"

He handed his form to the vice headmaster.

As he reviewed it, the boy went back into his position.

Wolf nervously shifted and tugged at his collar. He wondered where the real headmaster was.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Vice Headmaster Agares spoke.

"Scarlet Fox."

Wolf cocked his head to the side.

Was that bad or good?

He hoped Alwin got into Scarlet Fox too.

The vice headmaster pointed him to a tall boy with long hair. Wolf wiped his palms on his thighs and approached the boy.

 **"Hello! Welcome to Weston College! If you'll join the other boys over there," he pointed Wolf over to a group of boys standing by a pillar, "I will show you to the dormitories.**

Again, Wolf hesitated and repeated his earlier statement.

The boy nodded and pointed him towards a group of boys clustered by a pillar.

Wolf situated himself at the edge of the group, too afraid to go in and socialise.

Then, he looked for Alwin.

At first, he couldn't see anything through all the unfamiliar bobbing up and down as they each walked towards their respective houses.

Then, he caught a glimpse of Alwin's grey jacket that was so familiar. . .

Heading towards a boy with a gloomy expression and a hood.

No! Alwin was the one who could speak English! His best friend! He couldn't just be sorted into another house!

Wolf stared at Alwin through a haze of shimmery tears and felt a lump in his throat.

He didn't want to be alone!

He pressed his forehead into his palms and took a deep breath.

And another. And another.

Then, it was time to leave and Wolf was being whisked away in a current of boys like a leaf whisked away in the wind.


End file.
